


Just a Game

by Ashesintheair



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Genderplay, Kink Meme, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Pegging, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 10:23:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4742756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashesintheair/pseuds/Ashesintheair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A selection of my fills from the lj kinkmeme community. </p>
<p>Just a game - Cat/Cersei/Jaime. Pre-series AU in which the Lannisters are visiting Riverrun. "They secretly used to dress up as one another and Cat had thought she'd been trading kisses with Jaime..."</p>
<p>Buried Deep - Jaime rescues Brienne (from what and how doesn't matter) and tends to her injuries. When he thinks she's asleep he confesses his love, not knowing Brienne is awake.</p>
<p>Fish Out of Water - Edmure - his first time having sex</p>
<p>Arthur Dayne/Jaime- god of my idolatry</p>
<p>Don't stop on my account -  Jaime/Brienne One of them catches the other masturbating and then finishes them off</p>
<p>I Loved a Maid As Fair As Summer - Jaime/Cersei - Dom!Cersei, genderplay, pegging, dirty talk. Cersei is obsessed with the idea that she should have been born male and lives out this fantasy in her relationship with Jaime. She plays the dominant "male" role and he plays the submissive "female" role and they both get off on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just A Game

They had been sent out into the Godswood, to be out from under their parents feet while they discussed business. Lysa had dragged Petyr off to sit under the tree opposite. He had given Cat a look, but she had waved him along.

"Go on. She'll sulk for hours if you don't."

And so, at her bidding, and not entirely unwillingly, Petyr played at kisses with Lysa.

Cat stayed with their guests, conscious that her father would want her to be a good hostess. They were something of a matched pair, both with golden curls and quick grins.

Jaime had come to sit next to her and watched Lysa's game with interest. Cersei appeared to be uninterested, poking at a cluster of rocks with a stick she had picked up.

"Do you do that?" he asked bluntly, nodding his head at the opposite pair.

Cat flushed a little. It was just a game, but it was one that she felt the need to keep quiet about. It was just a game, but she wouldn't ever mention the nature of it to her father. Still, the Lannister twins had been nothing but bold and bright since they had set foot in Riverrun, and she felt compelled to match it.

"Sometimes," she said with a casual roll of one shoulder.

"Do you want to play?"

The confidence behind the question surprised her, but the boy was comely and perhaps it would be interesting to kiss someone who wasn't Petyr, with his mint leaves.

Cersei had looked up sharply at the question, locking eyes with her twin for a moment, and then they both laughed. Jaime turned from the gaze that matched his own and back to Cat. His hand caught her red hair and pulled her in until their lips met.

That was new for her. Hands usually stayed firmly in their laps in the game, just lips touching, lips and maybe a little more if Petyr was feeling bold.

Jaime was more bold than Petyr had ever dreamed of being, his tongue pushing softly at her lips until she opened them. It sent a shiver down deep into her belly in a way the game had never done before. She didn't know how to reciprocate, but let him explore her mouth, so softly and gently.

His hand released her hair as his twin cannoned into him, bowling him over and down the slope in a tangle of limbs. Cersei ended up pinning him to the ground, and Cat thought it passing odd that she should seem to be the stronger one of the two.

She took her share of kisses from him, his arms resting loosely around her waist, and Catelyn cocked her head to one side. "You're twins. Are you allowed to do that?"

It was Cersei who answered. "I love him, why shouldn't I?"

Cat thought no more of it, supposing it was no different to playing at kissing with Petyr, after all. He was practically her brother. It was just a game. There was no harm in a game.

She didn't entirely realise what had happened until it was time to go back in. The Lannister twins leaned in close, foreheads nearly touching.

"Switch back for dinner?"

The other nodded and they started to exchange clothes.

Catelyn put one hand to her mouth in confusion. Cersei - really Cersei this time - caught her eye with a mischievous grin.

"I wanted to. You have pretty hair. Don't look so horrified." Her grin widened and Cat saw the girl's sigil in that smile. "You enjoyed it, after all."


	2. Buried Deep

"Stupid, stubborn wench," Jaime cursed as he dragged Brienne's prone form from the road. "I'll ride on ahead, you said. In case of trouble. I had it in mind that you would call for me if you found it." The words were punctuated with gasps - it was no easy thing to move her, not given the size of her. Being short of a hand did not help. 

Once he was satisfied that they were both out of the way of passersby, he sat next to her and looked her over. Cuts and bruises for the most part, and an eye that was swollen. She wouldn't see anything out of that for a few days. There had been five bodies scattered around her, so she had given better than she had got, though he didn't know if she had slain all of her attackers. 

The unconsciousness worried him. He had been a soldier long enough to know how to clean and stitch cuts, but this... She could wake shortly with nothing more than a headache, or she might never wake at all. Worse, she could wake and be vacant. The idea of her gone, in one way or another, troubled him and he pushed it aside - uncomfortable with the intensity of the thought. 

He carefully stripped her torso, where she had taken the majority of her wounds, and then removed his own shirt. It wasn't clean, but it was cleaner than her own. He emptied a wine skin over it and started to clean the blood away. 

It looked worse than it was, as these things often did, and he talked as he worked. "What kind of stupid wench wouldn't even call for help? Or did you think I would be more of a hinderance without my hand? I could have distracted a couple of them for a minute or two. I'm good for that much. Pure greed, Brienne, keeping the fight to yourself like that. Why should you get to have all the fun? I wonder what you'd make of this, if you woke up with both of us half naked?" He paused and gave a quick grin. 

"Blush and stammer, I would think. Ah, I could have some fun with that for awhile. How many of your clothes am I going to have to remove before you wake up in outrage?"

There was one cut in her side that wouldn't stop bleeding and he held the stained shirt to it tight. He didn't speak again for awhile - the little digs were no fun while she was unable to respond. Besides, he was starting to worry. When he found his voice again, the tone was different. 

"If you don't wake up... I'm not sure what to do. I can't just leave you here. No. You know... You've grown on me. Like a really stubborn and disagreeable spot of mould, but all the same. If I wasn't Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and you weren't so stupidly attached to being the Maid of Tarth, I would make you the Lady of Casterly Rock. If only to see their faces. No. Not only that for that but it would be an amusing consequence."

There was a little inward gasp of breath and he looked back up to her face. Her eyes were open - one of them anyway - blue and wide. Her freckles stood out against the red flush of her face. 

"We could go to Tarth if you dislike Casterly," he added, using a grin to force away the feeling of unease. He hadn't meant for her to hear him talking like that and certainly wouldn't have said anything of the kind if he had known she was listening. 

"I think I hit my head..." she managed. 

"You did."

"It sounded like you were..." she couldn't finish it.

"I was talking about a future that probably neither of us have. Forget it."

She looked at him curiously, and he seemed to be the awkward one now. "Jaime, is it possible that you have a heart buried under all that cynicism?"

"Do you want to find out?"


	3. Fish Out of Water

"How do you want me, m'lord?" she said before he had even closed the door. The whore didn't seem bothered about whether the door was closed or not, but the young heir of Riverrun certainly preferred to do this without witnesses.

"On my back, from behind, standing?" she continued, trying to get some sense out of him.

Edmure nervously licked his lips - it had seemed like an easier option, having a whore for the first time. At least she would know what to do. And the idea of propositioning one of the serving maids was terrifying. They held their own court near the well and there was always far too much giggling. He couldn't bear the thought that he might be the target of that, after. If it went terribly wrong somehow, he wouldn't need to see this girl again. There was a security in that. Still, he hadn't expected that there would be so many questions.

The whore tugged her shift up and over her head and lay on the bed, legs spread. "I'll just lie here until your lordship decides, shall I?" Her voice was a little tart, a little tired. But it wasn't her voice that Edmure was focused on.

He had picked her because she had a nice face. She wasn't pretty, but she had freckles and a snub nose, and there was some charm to the slight crookedness in her teeth. Now he could see every inch of her stretched out shamelessly. Her nipples stood out pink against her breasts, but were still soft. There were a few more freckles across her chest.

His eyes coasted down further, to the cunt that she had so casually put on display. If he was honest, he would have said it was every bit as terrifying as the laughing maids by the well. And for the same reasons. _What do I do with it? I thought there would just be a hole and... But there are folds and creases and..._

She sighed and sat up. "First time? Here. Let me help you."

Her hands deftly unlaced his breeches and pulled him out. He was half-hard - nerves stopping anything more than that. The feel of a hand that was not his own was sufficient to coax him into life. She stroked his erection with a practised hand and a quick grin.

"There. That part was easy enough, wasn't it?"

Edmure nodded wordlessly and closed his eyes to concentrate on the sensation, but she was already pulling away. He gave a groan of protest and she shrugged.

"You paid a lot of coin to spill in my hand, ducky."

"No," he managed finding his voice and his courage at last. "On your back."

She fell back onto the bed and Edmure crawled over her. Her legs slipped up easily over his hips and he tried to find a little more boldness from somewhere deep.

"Show me."

She gave a little giggle at the novelty of that and took his cock in her hand, rubbing the tip up and down her slit.

Edmure shuddered pleasantly with the feeling. The slick warmth of it took all his attention and he couldn't imagine anything better until she positioned the head of his erection and lifted her hips from the bed. He slid into her, not far, but enough that his hands buried in the sheets, his knuckles turning white.

"Like that," she said in a matter of fact tone. "Only you need to do some of the work up there, you understand?"

He didn't answer, but plunged his hips down until he was buried in her, every part of him focused on that one feeling. The warm, encompassing squeezing took over his world and he thrust, his hand finding a place on one of her thighs, using her as purchase.

The whore kept up a worthy pretense of moans and gasps, pawing at his back. Edmure pinned one of her arms back against the bed, shifting his knees to grind deeper. There was the slick, wet noise of his thrusts, the blood rushing through his ears and the sharpness of the quick, panting breaths that he drew in. He pushed hard into her, twice more, a whirl of red and black as he closed his eyes, and then white, everywhere, through his whole body. He gasped and fell boneless onto her.

"There. That wasn't so difficult, was it?"

He raised himself on his elbows and looked down at her freckles and her little crooked teeth.

"How was it? Was it..."

"It was a good enough fuck for your first go. But it was all about you." She gave him a candid look. "I'm just a whore, m'lord and that's what you pay me for. But your highborn ladies might expect something more."

"What do I..." he started, still out of breath. His wits were fuddled still.

"For that, you need to pay more coin," she grinned.


	4. God of my Idolatry

Jaime Lannister, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard - and the title still made him snort and wish for the days of better men, before they had fallen so low that he was the best of a bad bunch - lay back in his bath and wished that the water could wash away more than just grime.

It was dim, and the low lamplight flickered and reminded him of the candles in the sept. Ah, there was a mistake. Too many associations rose up unbidden with that image.

He remembered how cold the stone flags had been under his knees and felt his cock stiffen in the water. It wasn't entirely a sweet remembrance - but he didn't have any of those left anyway. All the memories had been tainted or turned bittersweet, one way or another.

He leaned his head back against the rim and ran his fingers along his length. Without any more preamble, he grasped the shaft and started to pump his hand. _May as well. No one around to do it for me anymore. Even my right hand has deserted me._

He remembered the icy air of the sept again and aching of his knees. There had been spots of sweat on the flags - and more than sweat by the time they were done.

Dayne had been gentle - too much so for Jaime's tastes - but it had burned, the feeling of endlessly being stretched. He had looked up into the face of The Warrior and laughed through the pain because there could be no gods in Westeros, not if they could do this, here. He kept waiting for one of them to climb down from the pedestal and admonish them. _It would be The Father, of course._

They always contrived to hold vigil together if they could and the other brothers of the white cloak would praise Jaime's devout nature, that he would have stayed there all night, knees bloody. If he seemed stiff and sore, that was easy enough to explain away.

He worked himself harder, sweat and steam condensing on his face. He had idolised the man, would have done anything for him, and the things he had asked had been sweet.

Jaime thrust up into his own hand, splashing water over the side of the tub, conjuring up the feel of Dayne bucking into him. Those times in the sept, he had looked into the face of The Warrior and seen Arthur Dayne, and there had been nothing but the sound of panting, the slap of flesh on flesh. He had believed the man invincible - and he had been wrong about that as with so many things.

He remembered drops of his seed hitting the flags as Dayne jerked him off and he came in the bathwater, nearly disappearing under the surface as he lost his purchase and slipped.

_Now that would be a fine thing, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard_ drowning in his bath trying to jerk himself off. He nearly laughed at the thought. 


	5. Don't Stop on My Account

Brienne bit her lip and lay back on the bed. They had been travelling through the Riverlands for five days. Five days of Jaime being oddly courteous. Five days of being acutely aware of how her feelings had grown and changed. Five days of staring at the way his shoulders rolled as he rode, the way the muscle in his back shifted under his clothes. 

Her hand burrowed under the tunic and the breeches that she wore, the laces loosening as she did so. Her blue eyes fixed firmly on the door. He wouldn't come up. Not yet. The taproom held far more charm for him than her company, she knew that. 

Only one room at the inn, and they had argued about that. She had wanted to sleep alone. Jaime had pointed out the clientele and asked if she was sure. "I doubt you're a tempting prospect for them, but you're the only prospect. We'll take the room and if it troubles you, I'll sleep on the floor." There was a safety in numbers, for both of them, and for their belongings - they could be robbed as easily as she could be raped. 

Her hand rubbed between her legs, just to enjoy the tease of it before she focussed. She thought of his back again and her fingers teased along her slit. She didn't know very much about sex. She didn't know very much about herself. She had never taken the time to find out and there had never been anyone to show her. But she knew that it felt good when she rubbed there, just so. 

She wondered what it would feel like to run her hands over those shoulders, as she arched a little into her own touch. She had never needed to do this much before - there was no finesse to it. It was just a relief. Just a break from the tension so that she could go on riding with him without this getting in the way. 

Brienne's fingers worked faster, rubbing and circling, almost not daring to touch that nub directly. Her movements were getting jerky and she closed her eyes, trying to picture his face above hers, trying to imagine his touch. 

She heard the door and tried to stop, but her fingers were treacherous and wouldn't obey her immediately. The thrill of seeing him made her arch into it again, even as she, mortified, fought for control of her body back. She pulled her hand away sharply, fumbling with her laces and sitting up. Nothing in the world could have stopped the blush that spread over her cheeks or the grin on the face of Jaime Lannister.

_He will mock me. Of course, he will mock me._

"Don't stop on my account," he said. There was mirth there, but it wasn't quite mockery. 

She didn't know what to do, where to look, except that looking at him just made her cheeks flush even more. She gritted her teeth and waited.

Jaime sat next to her and gave her a strange look, one that she couldn't place. His cat green eyes were dark and a new wave of the flush started up her neck as she realised that it was actually quite a long way from mockery. "You may as well finish it. I'm not travelling through the Riverlands with you wound as tight as a spring."

"But-"

"Whatever your Septa might have said, there's nothing wrong with a little relief." He chose his words carefully, and it didn't seem to be exactly what he wanted to say. 

Brienne felt his hand on her shoulder, pushing her very gently back down onto the bed. She let him do it, the blood pounding in her ears, her heart feeling like it would leap out of her chest because she realised, she finally realised what he was saying. _He wants to watch me. Why, why would he want that?_

She didn't know why, but she would have done anything to keep him looking at her like that. Her hand slipped back under the clothes, but Jaime reached down, glancing back at her to look for an objection, and tugged her breeches down, just enough.

Her fingers found the spot again and started to rub, self-conscious and trying to cover as much of herself with her hand as she could. She wanted his eyes back on her face, wanted anything but him looking at that, looking at what she was doing. She closed her eyes with the shame of it, but knew that she wouldn't stop. She wanted it and this was likely as much of him as she would ever get. 

His good hand on her wrist made her freeze. "No."

"No?" She answered in confusion. _But you told me..._

"You haven't had much practise at this, have you?" The question was a blunt one, but she was past shame now, past everything decorous.

"No."

He stretched out next to her on the bed and his fingers traced down the bones of her wrist until he was hovering over her sex. "I can do this better than you can."

"You think you can do everything better than I can," she mumbled, before she even realised what he was suggested. When that sunk through as well, a moan rose in the back of her throat, unbidden.

He chuckled and folded her arm up across her stomach, taking that as tacit permission. 

She shivered convulsively at his first touch - not from pleasure but from tense anticipation. He traced his fingers through the wetness of her, circling her entrance and back up to where he knew she wanted him. Brienne didn't want to rush him, though she felt the urgency to be touched there. Maybe this was all she would ever have of a man, of this man. Let it last as long as it could. 

Jaime's fingertips brushed against the hot little nub of flesh that was so eager for his touch and she bucked against his hand. He didn't say anything, made no teasing comments about her eagerness, but she thought she heard him moan through the blood rushing in her ears. He shifted his hand so that his thumb made little circles there, so different to her inept rubbing. It was almost too much, more precise than she could bear, but her hips kept rolling shamelessly up off the bed, silently begging for more. 

His fingers teased further down and she realised what he meant to do.

"I haven't... I mean, I never..." she gasped between hastily drawn breaths.

"Let me," he said simply and there was a dark tone of desire in the words. "I assure you that you'll still be the Maid of Tarth, don't worry on that account."

It was his voice that did it. _He wants this as much as I do._ She nodded, helpless in the realisation.

It felt strange at first. Not sore, but not entirely comfortable. His finger pushed into her, stroking at the inside of her. It was distracting, taking her away from the feeling that was building in her stomach. Slowly, he pulled it out away and thrust it in again. Jaime started to build a rhythm that worked in tandem with his thumb and she found herself canting her hips to meet his finger. 

She whimpered and bit her lip until she could taste the blood. Her eyes found his face again, found him looking down at the work his fingers were doing with something akin to fascination. His lips were parted and he was drawing breath nearly as quickly as she was. His finger crooked inside her and his thumb pressed down harder as he worked his hand faster. The heat in her stomach spilled over and up into every inch of her. It was his name in her mouth and he just kept going, refusing to stop until every wave had washed over her, every shudder had wracked her. 

In the end, she had to push his hand away, unable to bear any more of it. 

Brienne lay, her breeches almost at her knees, the wetness between her legs cooling on the bare flesh of her thighs. Every single limb felt too heavy to lift. She thought of covering herself, but given where Jaime had just had his fingers, it seemed like false modesty now. It took a time for her to gather enough courage to look him in the face again. When she did, she found him studying her. Neither of them knew what to say - that much was evident. They were both better with actions than words. At last, when the silence became too stifling, he spoke.

"You must conceed," he grinned. "I do some things better than you."


	6. I Loved a Maid as Fair as Summer

Jaime gritted his teeth and his fingers scrabbled at the wall. The pain was bearable and mixed with pleasure, but it was too much, too soon.

"Cer... Ser, please. Go gently."

If Cersei noticed the slip, she made no mention of it. One hand was at his waist, tangled in the skirt and pinning it up out of her way. The other was wrapped around the cock that jutted from her breeches. Boiled leather, she had said and Jaime had not wanted to enquire too closely about how she had obtained it.

"Are you a maid, sweeting?" she asked, amusement rife in her voice. Still, she went slower, easing the tip of it into him and pausing to let him get used to the sensation. "You didn't seem like a maid when you had your lips wrapped around my cock."

He groaned and clung to the wall like it was a lifeline. His head dropped, hair falling into his eyes, and he nearly laughed at the absurd tent his erection made of the skirt.

Cersei arched her back and pushed the rest of her new toy in with a thrust of her hips, leaving her twin gasping for breath. Jaime closed his eyes and tried to focus on anything but the stretching fullness of it. There had been something... Almost without realising it, he rocked back, just a little, looking for the feeling that had sent heat to his stomach and made his own member ache.

The movement was not lost on Cersei and both her hands were at his waist now, holding him still while she started to thrust, mesmerised by the sight of it disappearing into him. When she found the spot, he cried out, the arms that had been bracing him against the brickwork buckling. She ground relentlessly into the same spot, over and over, teasing at the source of his pleasure with the tip of her cock.

"Do I make you wet?" she whispered.

"Yes," he panted and the answer was a truthful one, if the growing wet patch where his tip pressed into the skirt was anything to go by.

"Tell me that you want it. That you want me." Her own breath was coming harder now, not just from the exertion but from her own building orgasm. He could feel it in the way her fingers flexed and dug into his waist, in the way the rhythm that she had kept up grew frantic and unsteady. Jaime wasn't sure if the thing rubbed against her or if she got off solely on fucking him, but either way it worked.

"I want it. I want your cock buried in me."

Cersei nipped and nibbled on the back of his neck and he arched back into it. It was getting harder to breathe - she had laced the dress tight and he wasn't accustomed to it. There was a jolt of white hot pleasure at the base of his spine and it only grew as they rocked together, both of them desperate now, consumed with the need for release.

"I need to... Can I touch myself?" After a pause and another shuddering breath, he added "Ser?" since she seemed to have liked that before.

"Are you enjoying my cock that much?"

He didn't answer but took that as permission, his hand grasping roughly at his erection through the wool. Cersei's own hand had crept up to his shoulder, pulling his whole body back against her. They were both crying out now with every thrust and her fingers reached around to tease at his mouth. He licked and sucked eagerly at them as she pumped them in his mouth, matching the rhythm of their hips.

The play acting slipped as he came, a blinding flash of white behind his eyelids and a curse muttered around her fingers. The stickiness of it seeped through the wool and into his hand even as he felt her thrust madly into him one more time before she trembled and gave a low, animalistic moan.

"You're going to be a menace with that," he managed, one hand on the wall the only thing keeping him on his feet.


End file.
